


Dad, Get Off My Boyfriend

by dinolaur



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, you can also read some Steve/Howard in this if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:12:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinolaur/pseuds/dinolaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard accidentally time travels to the future, Steve is excited, and jealousy is an ugly color on Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dad, Get Off My Boyfriend

They’re in the middle of a team meeting when it happens. There’s a bright flash of light, and suddenly there’s a dark haired man standing just a few feet off from Fury. Instincts kick in mostly across the board. Natasha has her wrist cartridges leveled evenly with the man’s head, and Clint is reaching for a knife. Bruce has jumped about a foot in the air and nearly tumbled out of his chair. Thor’s just tilting his head, and Tony bangs his knees on the underside of the table. Steve leaps to his feet and is standing with his shield half way to attack mode.

But no one actually makes a move. The man is obviously just as surprised to be there as they are to see him. He’s wearing a three-piece suit minus the jacket, crisp white sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His hair is ruffled, gray at the temples, and he’s got a neatly trimmed moustache. He looks younger than Tony ever saw him in real life, but there’s absolutely no doubt as to who this is.

Tony sits completely still, mostly unwilling to believe he’s actually seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. After all, the man’s been dead for over twenty years. And even without that little setback, this man looks to be only in his forties. Tony’s got to be hallucinating or something. He didn’t pour any whiskey—like, the entire bottle—into his coffee this morning, did he? Maybe he’s still dreaming.

As the seconds drag on, Tony notices the others in the room starting to stand down. Fury’s looking back and forth between the newcomer and Tony, and since he hasn’t given any indication of a threat, Natasha is relaxing. She hasn’t lowered her arm, but she’s not as tense. Clint is standing warily next to her, and Thor is looking around the room trying to get an idea of what’s happening.

It’s Steve who finally breaks the silence. “Howard,” he asks, his voice croaking with heavy emotion. Tony glances up at him, frowning.

Howard Stark, standing impossibly in the SHIELD base of operations meeting room in the year 2013, turns wide, dark eyes to the Star-Spangled Man. He blinks a few times, clearly unbelieving of what he’s seeing. His lips are parted slightly, and his chest is almost heaving. His eyes drag up and down Steve’s body, taking in all the details. Finally, he stammers out, “St—Steve?”

And Steve is in motion, hurrying around the table, knocking against Tony’s chair in the process, which pushes him a bit violently into the side of the table. When Tony gets some air back in his lungs, he looks up to see Steve and Howard wrapped up in a tight embrace. They are absolutely clinging to each other, and there’s not even room for air between them. That’s the kind of embrace that’s really supposed to be a private affair.

Tony frowns.

“Steve—God—I’m dreaming,” Howard asks, and Steve’s returning laugh is muffled from where his face is pressed into the crook of Howard’s neck.

“No, no, you’re here,” Steve says, and the emotion there is stifling. “I don’t know how, but you’re here. God, Howard.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” Howard blurts, suddenly clinging even tighter, one of his hands holding the back of Steve’s head, fingers carded in the golden locks. “I swear, I have. How did you—how did you survive? Where have you been?”

“Captain,” Fury suddenly says, stepping forward. The two don’t break their embrace when they look over at him. They’re still pressed too close, gripping each other too tightly. Tony’s fingers are drumming rapidly on the cold surface of the table.

“Captain, perhaps you would care to give Mr. Stark a brief update as to his current location, and also debrief him on the circumstances which brought him here,” Fury says. The words sound like a suggestion, but the tone is an order.

“Yes, sir,” Steve says, turning a bright smile to Howard. He moves away only slightly, one arm still slung around the other man as he leads him out of the conference room and into one of the nearby lounges.

It very literally takes everything Tony’s got to not jump out of his seat and follow them.

“Stark.” Fury’s standing right behind him. Tony had been so focused on the closed door that he hadn’t noticed him moving. Tony doesn’t answer properly. He just grunts. “Are we going to have a problem here?”

“Ask them,” Tony mutters, crossing his arms and decidedly not sulking like a child. Across the table, Natasha rolls her eyes.

Tony hacks into the security feeds as soon as they’re dismissed from the meeting. He ignores Fury and Coulson, thumbs already flying over the screen of his mini tablet. The camera in the lounge gives him a perfect view of Howard and Steve. They’re curled up on a couch, leaning on each other. Steve’s actually holding onto Howard’s arm. Tony sneers at the screen. Isn’t that just precious? The camera’s quality isn’t good enough to see all the little details, but Steve runs his free hand over his eyes, and Tony figures the conversation is emotional. But Steve’s smiling, and Howard’s responding grin is splitting his face in half.

Tony’s teeth are grinding. Tony’s parents died when he was fifteen, and in those fifteen years of his life, Howard had never once looked at him with a fraction of that open affection. All Steve has to do is stand there.

And Tony can’t even be mad at Steve, because Tony’s guilty of that too. Something about Steve Rogers just makes people smile, like everything’s going to be all right just because he’s there.

But that’s still no excuse for Howard’s behavior!

Tony prowls the halls for a good half hour. Every once and a while, he pulls the tablet out of his pocket and accesses the feed. They haven’t moved. Tony frowns at the screen, wanting to throw it through a wall. He can totally afford to. He’s got enough money to trash this facility, and it’s not going to put dents in his wallet. Ok, maybe a little bit of a dent. And Pepper would kill him.

Finally, Tony can’t take it anymore. He’s got to take some kind of real action here. So he stalks to the lounge, pushing the door open and leaning against the doorframe in what he hopes is a very casual, I-don’t-actually-give-a-crap-what-you’re-doing-in-here type of stance. “Aren’t you two looking cozy,” he says, when really he wants to rant and carry on and have a fit. Because in the time since he last looked at the feed to now, they’ve shifted a bit. Steve’s almost lying on Howard, whose arm is slung around him, cradling him. It’s a disgustingly sappy sight. Ugh, and their smiles. Jesus. This is a working environment.

“Tony,” Steve declares, and as soon as the word leaves his mouth, his eyes widen in horror, and he claps a hand over his mouth. Howard’s looking between them curiously, and Tony notices that neither has bothered to move at his entrance. Rude.

“Who’s that,” Howard asks, and Tony bitterly thinks that’s pretty fitting. Howard barely ever knew him. Tony wasn’t as important as work. Fury’s word, that old film reel, none of that really changed Tony’s opinion of Howard. It’s hard for two little things to overwrite fifteen years of being all but ignored.

Steve looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck. Maybe Tony’s feeling a little vindictive, but it’s kind of entertaining watching him fumble for the words to explain. Steve’s probably just been offering Howard a mostly summarized debriefing of the future, nothing too detailed. Tony’s a pretty big, glaring detail.

“Um—he’s—well—he’s on the team, the one I was telling you about,” Steve tries. “He’s—um—he’s our tech guy?”

“Was that a question,” Howard asks. Steve shrugs helplessly.

“Come on, Cap,” Tony teases, “you can do better than that.” Steve glares at him like Tony’s thrown him under a bus. Ok, he kind of has. Because, while Captain America is a brick wall in the face of his enemies, an unmoving, unflinching wall of silence against interrogation, Steve is pathetically transparent when it comes to his friends. Howard’s eyes are narrowed, and he’s obviously very suspicious of their interaction. Tony all but sneers back, daring Howard to question him. Howard is the one who doesn’t belong here. This is Tony’s world. Howard isn’t calling shots. He absolutely does not get to make Tony feel inferior or out of place or unworthy.

And really, can he please stop snuggling with Steve? God, what if there were children around?

“Tony,” Steve says in a warning tone. “I’m trying to debrief Mr. Stark.”

“Right,” Tony drawls. “That’s what they called it in your day, huh?” Steve blinks, looking genuinely confused by that, and Howard’s suspicious look turns to a full-fledged glare. Right now, he and Howard probably look far too much alike, and Tony hates admitting that even to himself. Or maybe especially to himself.

“Is there some sort of problem here,” Howard asks.

“What in the world makes you think that,” Tony asks back. That finally gets them moving. Howard slips out from under Steve, his hand trailing across Steve’s shoulders like he’s subconsciously reluctant to be apart from him. Tony almost froths but holds back on swinging even as Howard stands toe to toe with him. They’re exactly the same height.

Steve scrambles up, trying to shove himself between them. Really, he can do it easily, but he’s always been reluctant to actually use his super-strength for things like this. “Tony, stop it,” he snaps. “Howard, please drop it. He’s just—well, I don’t know why he’s doing this, but please.”

“Who is he, and why does he have a problem with me,” Howard asks, not willing to back down. Steve makes a pathetic noise of discomfort, and if it were any other situation, Tony would back down to spare him, but this is his father, and Tony has daddy issues, in all caps and bolded.

Somebody must be on Steve’s side though, because suddenly Coulson is there, wearing that falsely pleasant half-smile, the same one he wore when he promised to tase Tony and leave him drooling on the floor. “Mr. Stark,” he says, and he’s obviously not talking to Tony because he’s never even pretended to be that polite to him. “If you could please come with me, Director Fury would like to have a quick word with you.”

Howard’s glare doesn’t really lighten, but his eyes shift to Steve uncertainly. Tony notices Steve reach down and take Howard’s hand, squeezing as he nods. Tony only just manages to not throw his hands in the air and rant. Because _come on!_ Howard follows Coulson away, who glances over his shoulder with a brief, but meaningful, threat of “Supernanny.” Tony just makes a face when his back is turned.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Steve is in his face. “What is the matter with you,” he cries.

“What,” Tony shrugs.

“Stop doing that,” Steve snaps. “You know exactly what. He shouldn’t know about you.”

“Oh, please,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Even when he does know about me that doesn’t change any of his opinions.”

Steve’s anger drops suddenly, and he looks uncomfortable. “Is this—is this about—?” Steve knows that Tony and Howard didn’t get along when the old man was alive. He knows that Howard didn’t pay much attention even on the rare occasions that he was around. He knows that Tony was shipped off to boarding schools because that was easier than trying to divide his time between work and family. He knows that Tony’s bitter and that nothing anyone says is going to change that. It’s something that honest to God upsets Steve because the memories he has of Howard don’t mesh with Tony’s. Steve pretty much has solid good memories, memories of a deep, intense friendship, and Tony only has disappointment.

They don’t know why they’ve got such different memories of Howard. It’s after Steve’s time and before Tony’s that Howard must have changed. It could’ve been the end of WWII or the wars that followed. It could have been the stress of his company really taking off and Howard working to always be the one on top of the arms race. It could have been all the work that went into founding SHIELD. Hell, it could even just be Tony being born. His parents had had him pretty late in life, and he definitely wasn’t planned. They don’t know, and they probably won’t ever know. Howard’s journals aren’t really sentimental. They’re all just work, and about as emotional as they get is when he had a half formed idea that was impossible because of the limits of technology at the time, his frustration made clear by the scribbles and scratch outs.

But Steve is standing there looking ready to start apologizing when Tony’s the one who’s been acting like an ass, and as much as Tony’s vindictive side would love to let him just stew in the guilt, he can’t do that to Steve. None of this is Steve’s fault, and it’s not right for Tony to begrudge him being excited to see an old friend again.

Tony just wishes they weren’t so touchy-feely about it.

“Sorry,” Tony blurts before Steve can. “It’s my issues, and I shouldn’t be throwing them at you. Not your fault.”

Steve’s still wearing that concerned, too sad expression, one that probably 99.9% of the population would punch Tony in the nose for putting on Captain America’s face. This country is nowhere near as united in its patriotism as it was back in Steve’s day, but it’s pretty much impossible to hate Captain America, no matter what side of the political spectrum one parks on.

Tony sighs and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it messily. Steve’s eyes dart up quickly, and his lips twitch in a brief smile. For a minute, Tony’s about to ask what that’s about, but then he has a sudden memory of his mother trying to brush his hair down, scolding good-naturedly that he’s just like his father, messing up his hair when he’s working on a project. He frowns, and Steve’s shoulders slump.

“So, how did he get here,” Tony asks before Steve can try to apologize for things that aren’t his fault.

“Some kind of lab accident,” Steve says. “He was working with that Cosmic Cube. He didn’t touch it or anything, but some machine it was in reacted strangely.” Steve rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I didn’t really get all of the technical talk.”

Tony nods. They don’t have immediate access to the Cube anymore. It’s locked away in Asgard, and it would probably take some groveling on Thor’s part to get Odin to release it for their scientists to look at again. Some serious groveling, actually. Because last time that thing was down here, shit went down, and Loki was a pain in everyone’s ass.

“Do you—do you want him to know,” Steve asks, his cheeks going a bit red. “About you?”

“Tell him he’s my father,” Tony asks, arching a brow. “Why, so he can have a few extra years to anticipate the disappointment I’ll be?”

“Tony,” Steve starts.

“Or he can over think it? Because, you know, for me to be born, he and Mom have to—“ He makes a noise of displeasure at the thought of his parents getting down. “—at a very specific time. Or, hell, he might just say eff that and do the snip-snip.”

“Tony,” Steve cries. “He wouldn’t try to not have you.”

Tony just shrugs. “I don’t know that I even care,” he says. “I haven’t dropped out of reality yet, so either he gets back without knowing or we’re officially part of an alternate reality than the one he’s from. Reed’s probably got some theories on that.” Because Reed Richards has theories on everything.

Steve frowns at him, seeing through the flippant tone and the poor attempt at shifting the conversation. And God, it’s a really poor attempt. “Tony, I know you don’t think so, but Howard did love you. I know he did.”

“No, Steve, you don’t know,” Tony snaps. He doesn’t mean to, but again, this is a conversation about his father, and he can’t help it. “You weren’t here. You were frozen in a block of ice. He’s not the same guy you knew. People change.”

Steve kind of looks like a kid who’s finally been told that Santa’s not real. Tony hates that look, and he wants to kiss it away.

Or maybe not kiss. Because that might freak Steve out. Tony hasn’t quite figured out what Steve thinks about things like that. He knows that times have changed, but when he was told that same sex partnerships are legal now, he just blushed beet-red and said, “Oh.”  

Tony hates himself just a little bit, so he mutters, “Do what you want,” and walks out of the room, ducking out of the way when Steve tries to grab his arm.

Unfortunately, because he has the worst luck ever and because he is constantly posed in an epic battle of wits and wills against Fury, Howard is boarded up with the rest of the Avengers in Stark Tower until such time as the collective scientific minds employed by or allied with SHIELD can find a way to get him to his proper time. Peachy.

Even better is that Howard and Steve’s need to be in constant physical contact seems to know no bounds. They’re like freaking honeymooners, and Tony breaks one or two or twenty windows down in his workshop, and JARVIS is threatening to leave the mess where it is. And Tony gets it, to a degree. After the plane crashed into the ice, Howard never expected to see Steve alive again. All those expeditions to the Arctic, he was expecting to bring home a body to be put to rest. And Steve woke up to everyone he had known dead. They never expected to have an opportunity like this, and they’re trying to squeeze in all the bonding or whatever into the little time they have. OK, fine, but they still don’t need to be cuddling all the time.

The only time they aren’t joined at the hip is when the Avengers get called out into the field. Howard tries to come along, but Steve refuses to let him, citing all the danger and that they’re trained for this sort of thing. Howard argues that it didn’t stop him during the war and pouts when Steve gets really serious, and Tony grins and silently gloats and practically does a peacock strut as he flies off with Steve pressed against his side. Steve seems to know, because he doesn’t look too impressed under the cowl.

Close living proximity doesn’t help Howard and Tony to get along. It’s only a couple of days before Tony’s contemplating actually going to board meetings and flying out to plant inspections, things that he normally won’t do even when Pepper’s threatening bodily harm, just so that he doesn’t have to be around the old man. And the times that they’re in the same room, Howard’s always giving him these weird looks that Tony just doesn’t care for. Mostly because he can’t quite interpret them. And one would think that would be easy since Howard’s face is practically his face.

But it’s not easy. It’s frustrating, and it’s not helping Tony to like or even tolerate the old man any more. He really needs to go hang out in the science labs and be as annoying as he can until they start making breakthroughs just to shut him up. But as it stands, he just acts like an ass, and he can’t hold it back even when Howard looks like he’s going to get up and go all old world Brooklyn on him or when Steve looks disappointed, which is worse than anything his father can throw at him anymore.

JARVIS scolds him, and Thor goes all solemn and says something about respecting fathers and their wisdom, and Fury’s probably going to have Natasha murder him in his sleep, which should please her to no end. Pepper and Rhodey are disappointed, and Steve just looks sad.

One of the unfortunate side effects of being around the old man so much is that Tony’s bad mood starts to get taken out on others. He really doesn’t mean to do it, especially not to Pepper or Rhodey or Thor, but he can’t stop himself. He’s drinking too much again and picking fights just to stir things up. Pepper threatens to turn the Tower into dry territory and enlists the help of Happy to keep him out of bars and clubs. Happy puts up with a lot of shit from Tony, but he always draws the line when and where Pepper says.

It’s one of those insanely rare moments when Steve isn’t clinging like a monkey to Howard’s back. Tony doesn’t know where the old man is, but he counts his blessings that it’s not this room. Tony’s waiting on the coffee pot, and Steve is slicing up some fruit. It starts out civil enough, but because Tony lacks a filter, he makes some crack about how he figured they even went to the bathroom together like teenaged girls.

Normally, Steve wouldn’t have taken the bait, but he seems to always feel the need to defend Howard, and because he feels that need about as much as Tony needs to ridicule the old man, they basically spend all of their time lately arguing. It’s a lot like it was in the beginning of the team, back when all they could do was grate each other the wrong way. Dealing with Loki and Skrull helped a lot with that, but Tony would really prefer to not require an alien invasion and Thor’s snooty little brother to smooth this over.

“He doesn’t even belong here, Steve,” Tony scoffs.

“I don’t belong here either,” Steve retorts, his eyes flashing. “By all accounts, I shouldn’t even be alive.”

Tony tries not to wince, because, having had him in his life, Tony can’t imagine a world without Steve. “You’re different,” he says. “Yeah, it was a freak occurrence, but you’ve been around this whole time. You didn’t go skipping ahead to after you died or anything.”

“That doesn’t necessarily make me belong here,” Steve says. And Tony kind of wants to shake him. Because if he says something crazy like maybe he’ll just go back with Howard when they figure out this whole time travel thing, Tony’s going to lose it. Lose it in a really bad way.

“You belong here,” Tony repeats. “More than him.”

“Tony,” Steve says, like it causes him physical pain. “I know you didn’t get along with him, but he isn’t going to be here forever. They—they’re going to find a way to get him home. Can’t you just put it aside until then?”

“I’m not the one who’s shoving him in everyone’s face,” Tony says, probably irrationally. Steve arches a brow. “You’ve got him constantly attached to you, and he’s all over that. You both just follow each other around like freaking puppies.”

“I am allowed to spend what time I can with my friend,” Steve says firmly.

“Yeah, friend,” Tony grumbles. “Sure looks that way.”

Steve stares at him blankly for a moment, and Tony tries not to squirm under the gaze. “Tony,” he finally says some moments later. “Tony, are you—are you jealous?”

“What,” Tony cries, a little too loud and a little too high-pitched. He quickly forces his voice lower. “What, no—no. Jealous? Are you—no.”

But unfortunately, Steve knows that Tony’s jabbering means exactly the opposite of what he’s saying. It’s probably completely transparent to anyone, but Steve, also unfortunately, is Tony’s best friend, which means that he knows most—if not all—of Tony’s ticks and can read Tony pretty well even when he is legitimately doing a perfect job of hiding something.

“You are,” Steve says.

“Am not,” Tony snaps. Steve starts laughing, and Tony’s face goes red. “Stop it!” To his credit, Steve tries, but he just ends up snorting.

“You’re not—I’m not replacing you or anything,” Steve says, his voice muffled behind his hand.

And maybe it’s petulant and childlike, but Tony’s been in a constant bad mood for the past three weeks—and he can pinpoint the exact moment that started up—and he’s got _issues_ , and Steve hasn’t been around, and now he’s laughing at him, but Tony is just completely sick of it. “Like any of you could,” he snaps. “That man’s completely out of his time. He’s—okay—yeah, Howard’s damned smart, but he’s not capable of handling the technology of today, not the way I can. And maybe you’ve got some rose-glasses memories, but you knew him for—what—a couple of years when he was still practically a kid. I grew up under his impossible to please shadow, not able to get so much as a single damned compliment for anything, despite the fact that I was a damned exceptional kid. The only time he could even pretend to want to be around me was when he was telling me stories about you! Because he had some kind of fixation or something, so don’t go telling me that the two of you are just friends or any of that bullshit!”

And Steve just stands there. There’s no more smile. He looks incredibly uncomfortable. “Tony,” he manages, “we didn’t—Howard doesn’t—it’s nothing like that.”

Tony scoffs. “Please, it’s more obvious than getting smacked in the face with a repulsor blast. And if he didn’t tell you or whatever, that’s just because it was the forties, and that was back when Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell applied to all aspects of life.”

“Howard and I weren’t—it is possible to be very close and tactile with someone and not introduce romance to the whole thing,” Steve protests.

“And you can have sex without romance,” Tony supplies. Steve blushes. Unfortunately, Steve blushing isn’t an indication of whether or not Tony’s onto something. Steve’s just easy to embarrass.

And it’s totally not that Tony isn’t okay with his dad possibly being bi, because that would be rather hypocritical. It’s that it’s Steve his dad is walking around here making goo-goo eyes at when he’s supposed to not be screwing with Tony’s life anymore.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that,” Steve snaps, his face still red. “You’re like a child. If something doesn’t go exactly your way, you whine and complain, but you don’t do anything productive about it.”

“There’s plenty I could do that’s productive,” Tony retorts sharply. “I could easily sneak him into Reed’s lab and just let him loose. That’s a guarantee to get him zapped to some other dimension or something and out of my hair.”

“You’d rather risk any of the Godforsaken consequences of setting Howard loose in Reed Richards’s lab than just putting up with him for couple of weeks and not seeing things that aren’t there,” Steve asks.

“I’m not making anything up! You can’t keep your hands off each other!”

“It’s not like that!”

“Then explain it, and don’t you say you’re just friends, because just friends don’t do that!”

“Howard and I did not, are not, and will not sleep together,” Steve all but shouts. “It’s not like it is with—you just refuse to even notice—UGH!”

And suddenly Steve’s hands are on either side of his face in an almost too tight grip, and his lips are on Tony’s and, oh, hello, that’s a tongue in his mouth. That’s Steve’s tongue in his mouth because Steve is kissing him. This is sort of only all of Tony’s hopes and dreams, so really, he should probably kiss back. Yeah, that’s a good plan.

Tony grabs the front of Steve’s shirt, turning and shoving hard so that he slams Steve up against the refrigerator, rattling the appliance and sending a few magnets falling to the floor. Tony presses up against him, slipping a leg between Steve’s, and there’s moaning, but Tony’s not entirely sure which one of them—maybe it’s both?—is doing it.

Tony pulls his lips away from Steve’s and drags them across Steve’s jaw. Ok, that’s definitely Steve making those noises. “God—you—you’re just—“

“Really good at this, I know,” Tony mutters, teeth catching on Steve’s skin.

“So stupidly—just so stubborn,” Steve groans. “With your stupid gelled-up hair and—and thick skull—you— _oh, Jesus_!”

Tony really hopes that Steve is this vocal in bed. Really hopes. And wouldn’t it be perfect if Steve was secretly kinky and into some really dirty stuff, and good God this man is attractive. They should probably leave the kitchen though. Because if Tony can get his way here, they are about to do some things that Tony’s not really interested in anyone else getting to see, and there is nothing that’s going to stop Tony now that he’s got Steve in his arms.

“Well, aren’t we cozy?”

You know, except his dad catching him dry-humping his old war buddy against the refrigerator.

“H—Howard,” Steve gasps, breathless and trying to button his shirt back up. Tony can’t help the smirk from that little ego boost. Howard is leaning up against the doorframe that connects the kitchen to the TV room. He’s grinning, looking like he’s reaching Thor levels of amusement.

“Very cozy,” Howard drawls, arching a brow. “Should I have JARVIS lock the kitchen down for a while and then call in the maid?”

If he does, that’ll be just about the nicest thing his dad has ever done for Tony.

“Howard,” Steve tries again, half detangling himself from Tony and trying to walk forward. Tony hooks his fingers around Steve’s belt loops without thinking. “It’s not—okay, actually it is what it looks like, but I should explain—“

“It makes a lot of sense,” Howard cuts him off, still smiling. “I mean, looking at you, you don’t necessarily come across as liking other fellas, but with how much you’re always talking about him—and looking like you did when you used to go on about Peg—and then there’s the way he’s always wanting to sock me right in the nose. The jealous type, isn’t he?”

Tony starts to sputter indignantly, but Howard cuts him off. “That’s all right, sport. I am too.” Steve and Tony both freeze and stare suspiciously at Howard. “So, that was the first kiss, right? Now that that’s out of the way, and you know that Steve’s got eyes for you, are we done beating around the bush here?”

“Bush,” Steve asks, his voice almost a squeak.

“Don’t play innocent, my friend,” Howard scolds good-naturedly. “I know you too well for that.” Steve goes red again. “We’re not going to pretend I didn’t just walk in to find you getting ready for a fondue party with my son, are we?”

Steve makes some kind of noise that isn’t human in nature. Tony just stares over his shoulder at his old man and finally says, “Huh. How long have you—?”

“Well, I’m brought to a building called Stark Tower, where there exists an artificial intelligence system that answers to the name of my butler and listens to your commands over everyone else’s, and anything resembling a business transaction happens with your approval and signature,” Howard lists off. “Not to mention, you’re a bit of a spitting image, son.”

“Huh,” Tony says again.

“Could use an attitude adjustment, but then again, I’m the jealous type too,” Howard says lightly, and Tony, strangely, can’t even find it in himself to be irritated. Because if Howard had a problem with this—be it intolerance or wanting Steve for himself—he would have said something by now, so Tony’s pretty sure that they’re kind of getting Howard’s approval here.

“Howard, are you,” Steve starts to ask.

“Giving you my permission and blessing to date my son and ravish him—when I’m not in the room, please,” Howard finishes with a wide smile. “Sure am, pal. I think you’ll make an excellent daughter-in-law someday.” And with that he turns on his heel and ventures back into the TV room, calling for JARVIS to pull up something Disney for him.

Steve’s face is about as red as Tony’s ever seen it, his hair disheveled and lips swollen. All in all, it’s a pretty good look, and Tony can think of much better uses of Steve’s time than gaping after his friend’s retreating back. “JARVIS, put the kitchen into lockdown,” Tony instructs, grabbing Steve’s collar and pulling him into another deep kiss. 


End file.
